TEMPERANCE
UPRIGHT: balance, moderation, patience, purpose
REVERSED: imbalance, excess, self-healing, re-alignment
Remus hated his birthday. Well that was technically a lie. He didn't hate the day itself, he hated how his friends decided to celebrate it. It was a tradition they'd been doing since they'd become friends in second year, and Remus hated every minute of it.
His body awoke with a chill, hair wet along with his sheets, giving the impression that Remus was a toddler rather than a fifteen year old who had outgrown that habit a long time ago.
He could only stare at the three boys at the edge of his bed, their wands pointed at him with smirks written on their faces.
"Really? We haven't outgrown this yet?" Remus had learned his lesson when it came to the aguamenti spell his first birthday celebration with the three of them, and thankfully all his textbooks were locked up safe in his trunk the night before.
Sirius scoffed and used one of the poles of the four poster bed to swing himself around, drawing closer to the birthday boy, "You ask too much of us Moony, besides, we know how much you love it."
Even Remus couldn't keep the smile off his face as he attempted to wring out the water out of his pajamas.
Peter let out a chuckle, "I'm just grateful you two don't smell like wet dogs whenever we do it."
Remus's chest twisted at the comment but he shrugged it off and James whacked Peter on the back of the head.
"Come on Pete, even you have better material than that," James rolled his eyes and pulled out a large bag of packages and placed them on the trunk, Remus's smile growing slightly wider at the sight.
Back home his parents were only able to afford one or two presents, which Remus loved them for trying, but there was always a part of him that wanted more. James, Sirius, and Peter, thankfully, had no qualms about spoiling their friend, although Remus always felt guilty about never being able to return the favor.
By the time breakfast in the Great Hall was ready, Remus had ended up with several signed books by famous wizarding authors from James, a pack of warm knitted sweaters and socks from Peter, and several boxes of chocolate and some joke wands from Zonkos from Sirius. His mum and dad would be sending their presents later, along with his Uncle Hugh's. Remus always looked forward to presents from his Uncle, considering he spent most of his time in famous archaeological sites on expeditions for the University.
So far, today was shaping up to be a pretty swell birthday.
Even the House Elves seemed to have gotten the memo, setting out his favorite foods for breakfast that morning, Remus quickly digging into the sausages and scones before helping himself to another bite.
"Careful mate," Sirius's eyes gleamed above his smirk, "Don't want you overtaking Pete as the heavyweight champion," He slapped Peter's shoulder but the pudgy kid rolled his eyes.
James as always, was quick to dispel any tensions, "You're one to talk Padfoot, I saw you wolf down an entire chicken the other night."
Sirius let out an offended scoff, "I'll have you know that chicken was the only reason I didn't fall off my broom at practice later that night."
Peter snorted, "If weight was all it took to be a good beater, I'd replace you in an instant."
Remus punctured the moment with his fork, pointing it at Sirius, "Oh no, his head is already too big for his broom don't inflate it further."
A piece of toast slapped Remus in the face, Sirius sticking out his tongue as their group burst into laughter.
"You're right Remus," Peter jumped in, a wry smile on his face, "Gotta leave some room for him to compensate."
The sound that left Remus's mouth was unholy, shoulders shaking in laughter as Sirius's face turned redder and redder.
"I hate all of you."
Cressida had not planned on having a good day. She'd woken up in a huff, Emmeline and Dorcas avoiding her since her outburst in the Ravenclaw locker rooms, not that it was their fault.
She'd been the one to say that spell. She'd been the one to reveal exactly who she was in front of everyone else. She was just grateful that Aubrey had enough sense not to say anything about why she'd been benched for future games.
Cressida didn't even realize what day it was until Ted's owl flew directly into her headboard from the window of her bedroom.
It plopped down and ruffled it's greying feathers before gently nudging Cressida awake. Prentiss nipped at her bare skin and she shoved the owl away before petting him behind the wing, which seemed to placate the elderly animal before he flew back out the window, crashing into the wall one last time for good measure.
She shook her head as a brief chuckle left her lips, staring at the colorful packages the owl had brought her.
The blue and gold wrapping sent her heart constricting, sucking in a deep breath as she realized that she was turning fifteen. It was her birthday.
Her birthday.
The day she came into this world. She was still figuring out if that was a good thing or not.
Letting out a sigh, Cressida pulled her hair up out of her face and tore through the wrapping paper.
She smiled at the sweaters Andromeda had given her, pulling one on over her tank top and relishing in the soft material. It smelled like lavender and vanilla. Like Ted's house. Ted's gift lay beside them, a tall stack of books on every subject imaginable, including a new version of The Princess Bride, her original version torn to shreds from reading it so much. Her mom and dad sent several sweets–including a dozen chocolate cupcakes with a singular candle to make her customary birthday wish–as well as a couple cards with some spending money for when she came back home over the summer.
The last present was from her Baba Esme. That sent her brow raising, and Cressida shook the tiny package, no bigger than a box of crayons.
Her hands froze as the wrapping paper fell off like sheets of ice on a cliffside, dropping to the floor to reveal a thick wooden box no bigger than her hand, intricate designs carved into the wood.
A note was taped to the front, her Baba's scrawl unfamiliar to Cressida after years of being unable to visit her.
Your mother mentioned you'd been having trouble sleeping.
I found these in a box of my Mama's things. Supposedly she enchanted the necklace to help focus her gift. I know you already have her cards, so I found the original box your great-grandpa made to house them.
Fifteen is a great age to be, I'm so happy I get to see you grow, Cressida.
Love,
Grandmama Esme.
Cressida couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips as she opened up the intricate box, delicately setting it down on her comforter, like it could break at any second. Inside lay a necklace, the same color silver as the moon dangling from her neck, but a circular stone, tiny and delicate, hung from the chain. The blue kyanite shone as it swung back and forth like a pendulum, and when the cool stone touched her decolletage, it was as if the weight of the world had sprung off her shoulders.
The tiredness that always accompanied her, dissipated into thin air. But more than that, the ringing had disappeared. That incessant noise that had never left her since she was five years old was nothing more than a low buzzing, barely able to be heard. In fact, she was certain that she would need to strain to hear anything like what she used to.
She fingered the necklace, tracing the curve of the moon that hung below it and tugging on the kyanite.
Relief flooded her veins and Cressida scribbled out an extra thank you note, giving it to the owl who pecked her affectionately before flying out of the open window in her dorm.
Plucking the new edition of the Princess Bride from her pile of presents and blowing out the candle, Cressida settled against her headboard, Golding's words lulling her into a dreamless sleep.
James wasn't looking for anyone when he stormed out of Muggle Studies. Really, the last thing he wanted was company. Unusual for him, he knew. The great James Potter? Who never went anywhere without his lackeys, wanting to be alone for a few minutes out of the day?
Yeah, like anyone would believe that. He'd been in a bad mood all day, from the very moment his mum's owl had flown into his room and informed him that his father would be unable to show up to Hogsmeade that weekend to celebrate his birthday.
Something about dealing with sleakeazy knock-offs and their potential side effects and other pointless stuff that James couldn't be bothered to learn about. He knew his dad was busy, and with sleakeazy finally taking off in the States, he was even busier than usual.
James just figured that he'd actually take time out of his day to wish his only son a happy fifteenth birthday.
He scoffed and ruffled his hair, staring out at the grassy pitch before him. Nothing quite calmed him down like the Quidditch pitch.
It was the middle of the day and everyone was either in classes or studying. James always had each Quidditch practice schedule memorized. It was the only thing he had memorized to tell the truth, but it came in handy most days. Like today.
Collapsing on the pitch, James stared up into the cloudy sky, willing for just the tiniest bit of sunshine to mark the beginning of spring and the end of winter.
Merlin, he was starting to sound like Moony.
Inhaling sharply, James shut his eyes and pressed himself further into the pitch, the smell of freshly cut grass flooding his veins with a calm he'd lacked all day.
The worst part of the day had been Muggle Studies. He didn't know why he felt the compulsory need to hit on Evans in that class more than any other–probably because they were only one seat apart–but it always landed him in hot water. He'd thought maybe it would make him feel better. Maybe today, she'd cut him some slack and at least humor him.
Instead, she'd attacked his pride and torn him down even further.
"Why don't you torment someone who's actually interested?"
"Oh but that's no fun Evans. Your blind hatred gets me through the day."
"Is that why you keep going after Sev? So I have more reason to hate you?"
"Snivellus is hardly innocent Evans. I mean really, have you seen the people he hangs out with–"
"Oh like you're any better!" Her face had turned as red as her hair, emerald eyes blazing like the Unforgivable curses they'd learned about earlier that year. "Sirius attacked Cressida Tonks for rightfully sticking up for herself, not to mention the torture he's put Marlene through with his snide comments about her appearance. And Peter…he just goes along with it cause he doesn't know any better. Your friends are just as bad, Potter, it's a miracle your little group hasn't used an Unforgivable in one of your pranks yet."
James shut his mouth at that and even Evans seemed to reconsider her words for a brief moment before whirling back around to face the front of the classroom.
An exhale pulled him out of the harsh memory and he was back on the Quidditch pitch, staring into the foggy abyss above him.
Lily's words rang in his head with each step he took, echoing and bouncing around until he wanted to scream.
He shouldn't have pushed her so hard. He shouldn't have brought up Snape. He shouldn't have teased her in the first place. It wasn't fair to her. She wasn't responsible for his bad mood. She wasn't responsible for making him feel better.
It would be so easy to blame her for his sour mood, but James knew better. He couldn't blame Evans even if she threw him off a cliff. He deserved every ounce of her ire, which made it all the more confusing why he kept coming back to her.
Those emerald eyes haunted him, dark auburn hair imprinted in his memory every night as he went to sleep.
It wasn't fair. Why couldn't he move on like Sirius? Like Peter after his failed date with Mary?
It wasn't fair.
Life is never fair, iho. His mother's voice spoke softly. James could almost feel her hands in his hair, pulling him closer to her like he was six years old again instead of fourteen and three years away from being recognized as an adult.
He missed the comfort of her arms around him. He missed the sweet smells of their house in Godric's Hollow, the couch always bursting with blankets and pillows and the sweet scented candles wafting through the air.
James loved Hogwarts, he did. But it wasn't home.
And he missed home.
He missed his Uncle Charlus popping in with Aunt Dorea right behind him, always carrying some new trinket he found on his travels, talking about Quidditch games and indulging James's interest in Transfiguration, even though every Potter since Hardwin himself had been a potioneer.
Snape had ruined that career for him long before James realized how much he loved transfiguration. He missed the large meals, the way Mum would always end up burning something in the kitchen because she wanted to give the House Elves the day off.
They'd eat it anyway, and his dad would go out of his way to finish it, letting Mum know that it was delicious. They always knew he was lying, but no one seemed to care.
Those memories were the ones that propelled his patronus during Defense Against the Dark Arts, but now his chest constricted and his throat grew tight.
His birthday, which had always been celebrated at home, was now being relegated to the Three Broomsticks at Hogsmeade, which annoyed James, but he could live with it.
But then Aunt Dorea had gone into labor and Charlus had cancelled. Alright, that's okay, James still had his mum and dad–
Except he didn't because his dad was busy…again. So his mum had cancelled the party altogether.
It was fine. Really.
He didn't need a big party. He had Sirius and Remus and Peter. They'd throw a rager and everything would be fine. They'd do their yearly tradition of dowsing each other with water and skipping classes and it would be fine.
So why did he feel like shit?
"James?" A soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts. For a moment hope filled his chest that Lily had followed him out here. But that was soon dashed when he caught sight of thick dark curls and deep brown eyes. Cressida Tonks stood above him, bag hanging from her shoulder as she crossed her arms and looked down at him.
James shifted his gaze away from hers, "What? Remus send you out here to talk some sense into me?"
"Actually I didn't see you at lunch," Cressida responded, shifting on the balls of her feet, "I uh, wanted to give you something and when I couldn't find you, I figured you'd be here."
His gaze drifted back toward her, brows creasing together at her words. Why was she looking for him?
Cressida crossed her legs as she sat down on the pitch with him, digging through her bag furiously, "I uh, I know your birthday is coming up so I spent the last three months working on this for you. Actually Flitwick is the real reason I've been working on this, but I can't really show him what I'm about to show you so–"
"Tonks," James interrupted, sitting up from his despondent position and placing his arms on his knees, "You gonna get on with it?"
Cressida's lips perked up into a small smirk and she pulled out a piece of parchment that he recognized. Almost instantly his mood perked up and she held out her wand, tapping the parchment before saying those hallowed words. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
The world of Hogwarts spread out before him, but where there had been empty halls and blank dots before, now they held names, each moving silently and leaving a trail of footprints behind them.
"Merlin's beard," James whispered in awe, watching as the tiny dot representing Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore stopped in the charms hall for a few minutes. Remus was in the corner of the library, as expected, and Peter was in the dormitory. Sirius was still in the Great Hall, Marlene McKinnon by his side. "You actually did it."
"It took some very very advanced magic, but yes I did." Cressida chuckled, her mouth wide as her teeth poked through her lips. "I hope I did a good job."
"Are you kidding me? This is bloody amazing." James gaped at her handiwork. "What did you do?"
Cressida shrugged, a blush forming on her cheeks, "It was a Homonculous Charm. Really I don't know why I didn't think of it before, but it took me a little while to get it right."
James shook his head, "No, this is…this is perfect Cress, really."
"What did you just call me?"
The nickname had fallen from his mouth before he could take it back, and James froze as his hazel gaze met Cressida's dark one. He didn't know how panicked he looked, but he could tell from the expression on Cressida's face that he'd fucked up. "Sorry I didn't mean–"
"No, it's fine!" She waved the protest away, "It's just…you've never called me that before."
"It just slipped out, I didn't mean–"
"It's fine James," Cressida reached out and took his hand in hers. Comfort flooded his veins and for a moment he was back to craving the warmth of his mother. The comfort of his home. Cressida's hand was soft and warm, nothing like the biting cold he'd spent the last few months training in.
Without a second thought, James launched himself into her arms, and the warmth that spread through him was enough to cause the feelings of loneliness and homesickness to subside. Her embrace was tight and warm, hot breath against his neck while her hands curled into fists on his back.
She needed this just as badly as he did.
"I never wished you a happy birthday." James muttered into her shoulder.
"It's okay," Cressida replied, voice thick with emotion, "You weren't the only one."
The weight of her words hung in the air, blanketing them like a snowstorm.
Unspoken thoughts coursed through the both of them, but they didn't move from their position.
"Happy Birthday, James."
"Happy Birthday, Cress."
